


The Night Watchman

by writernotwaiting



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: AU Adam, F/M, Halloween, Outdoor Sex, Smut, Vampire Sex, Vampires, bad Sylvia Plath joke, not in Detroit, pretentious vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writernotwaiting/pseuds/writernotwaiting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte goes to a Halloween party as a favor for her roommate, but gets stuck walking home by herself. She’s not altogether alone, however. She is being tracked by the night watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Watchman

“I can’t say I’m all that excited, no.”

“Please?”

“Who’s party is this, anyway? Why do you need to go?”

“It’s Josh and Krystal — he’s my boss — I have to go!”

“You’re kidding, right? You seriously want me to find a Halloween costume just so I can sit in a corner while Josh and Krystal’s stupid-rich friends chat one another up? No, Sara, go by yourself.”

“Oh come on, Charlotte, I can’t go to this thing myself.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not — their house is in Shadyside which means I have to walk through campus. I am not going to walk through that neighborhood by myself at night on Halloween”

Silence.

“Please? Don’t make me go past the troglodytes hanging out of the frat houses by myself.”

“You could go through the park.”

“You are kidding, right?”

“I would.”

Sara gave her a withering look and rolled her eyes. “Of course _you_ would. You love that creepy park.”

Silence.

“Pretty please?”

Of course Charlotte went. But that didn’t mean she had to make it easy. And it certainly didn’t mean she had to wear a costume that would suit Sara’s business-class boss and his trophy wife.

“What the hell are you supposed to be, anyway?” Sara scrunched up her face at Charlotte’s reflection.

Charlotte copped a snide smile, “Sylvia Plath, after the oven.” She straightened the pencil skirt, adjusted the smart little cardigan, and leaned into the mirror to perfect the dark circles under her eyes.

“Oh my god! Why are you even my friend?”

Charlotte stuck out her tongue, “You wouldn’t want me any other way. Besides, I need to find some way to amuse myself this evening. Making Krystal squirm will be my only form of entertainment while you schmooze your boss.”

Sara rolled her eyes.

“Hey — I’m doing you a favor — think how normal you’ll look standing next to Charlotte-your-weirdo-friend. Just promise that we won’t have to stay late — I’m dead tired, Sara, no joke.”

“Ha. Ha. I promise.”

“Can we walk through the park, anyway?”

Sara threw her another look to curdle milk, “Seriously?”

“Please? It’s so quiet. No puke on the sidewalk. No drunken catcalls.”

“Fine.”

Once outside the gates, though, Sara balked. “Charlotte, I can’t walk through there. My shoes.”

“You knew we were walking.”

“But I was counting on sidewalk, not a gravel path.”

“Oh suck it up. It’s a beautiful night.”

“I would much rather go around.”

“Sara, the park is safer than frat row — no one ever goes through here at night. Ever.”

“Exactly. It’s creepy.”

“Not creepy. It’s quiet. Blissfully silent.” Charlotte loved the park. She knew every path, every turn, every tree, and she loved it just as well in the dark as she did at noon. And she felt like it loved her back.

_Ok, maybe that’s a little creepy. But it’s my kind of creepy._

“Fine.” Sara relented. “We’ll go through the park.”

As soon as they stepped in, Charlotte felt safe. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her sweater and set a leisurely pace, despite Sara’s best efforts to speed things up. “We’ll be late.”

“No we won’t. We’re fine. How can you not like it in here?”

“It feels like someone’s watching.”

“No one’s here.”

“How do you know?

“I just do.” But then she wasn’t quite so sure. Was that the crunch of another shoe? She stopped for a moment to listen.

Sara hissed at her “Charlotte!”

“Shhh . . .!” But there was just silence now.

“Dammit Charlotte stop trying to freak me out.”

Charlotte stood for a minute longer, before she thought she could hear very soft breathing. Very close.

Goosebumps broke out across her arms, and Charlotte could have sworn she felt slight puff of warmth on her neck, a soft brush of fingertips up her arm. But the thrill that shot through her had nothing to do with fear.

Charlotte let loose the breath she had been holding and set off with a pace a little faster than before.

****

Sara promised they wouldn’t stay long. But, yeah, we all know how those things work.

Once there, Sara pranced off in her sexy vampire outfit to impress Josh and Krystal with some brilliantly fawning small talk, while Charlotte practiced the art of drinking-while-remaining-inconspicious.

_At least they’ve got good taste in booze._

After hour two of avoiding as many people as possible, Charlotte mixed herself another suitably festive g&t before wandering out the back door to the patio and collapsing into a lawn chair just beyond the edge of the light pooling out the glass doors. She closed her eyes, just for a minute. _Tell me again why I came here?_

*****

Charlotte startled awake when the patio door slid shut. “Crap!”

“Oh my god, you’re still here!” It was Krystal, come out to make sure everything had been picked up. “Sara left ages ago. She thought you’d left so she took a cab.”

“Oh damn.”

“Do you want us to get you a ride?”

“No. I’m not afraid to walk.” She looked at her watch.

“You really shouldn’t — you have to go right through Greek Row.”

“I’m not worried — ‘though I be but little, I am fierce’.”

Krystal cocked her head at that angle that said you-are-crazy-and-I-have-no-idea-what-you-are-talking-about. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll be fine.”

When Charlotte got to the gates of the park, she hesitated a bit before she entered, remembering that tingling contact. She ran her hands up and down her arms, for the first time a little uncertain as to the wisdom of her favorite shortcut. Then from down the street she caught a thumping baseline of an approaching car. That sealed it. In she went.

As soon as she’s reached the trees she felt it. Or she felt something, anyway, something that kept pace with her just off the path.

Then she heard it. That faint turn of a shoe that made her swallow hard. She stopped. So did it. She held her breath. Someone else breathed in deeply, then sighed when he let that breath back out. Because it was a “he.” There was nothing feminine about that sigh.

She remained stock still.

Something chuckled. “If you don’t take a breath soon you’re going to pass out.”

Her head whipped around as she started. “Where are you?”

Another chuckle. “Are you in a hurry?”

“Maybe I should have been.”

“‘Though she be but little . . .’?”

Charlotte’s heart-rate skyrocketed as she tried to locate the voice. “Who are you?”

“I am the caretaker.”

A shadow broke free from the larger darkness at her side.

“I am the night watch.”

A tall figure of a man left the treeline and approached the path.

Charlotte was paralyzed as he circled around her. “Very nice costume, Sylvia.”

He stopped just behind her, his face looming beside her own, close enough that she felt his breath on her neck. Her eyes closed tight when her legs refused her command to run. She let out a quick rush of breath, and gulped down a quick gasp of air. Her heart beat so hard it shook the little clasp that held her cardigan in place.

She felt more than heard as he took in another deep breath, and the blood rushed to her cheeks at the sound he made as he exhaled. She felt his hands hover just above her arms, as if he were fighting with himself.

She took yet another deep breath, this time an attempt to calm her rising panic, and tamp down a gooseflesh that made her hug her arms to her chest as she felt her nipples grow hard. “Who are you, really.”

“I told you.” His voice low, barely above a whisper, but close enough to set off sparks through her chest and a tingle down her spine. “I am the night watch, and I have watched you. Watched as you lingered in your walks. Watched as you lay on the grass in summer to count the stars. Listened as you sang soft tunes to yourself and recited poetry to the moon.”

He leaned in just a fraction of an inch closer. “And I have kept you safe. But now I am hungry.”

She swallowed hard at his words, the tiniest fraction of a sound escaping her lips as she bit down on them hard. Her arms felt the warmth of his touch, even though his hands still hovered inches away. Her words came out more breath than sound, “who are you?”

“Is the name important?”

She gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

“I am Adam.” He took in another long breath. “Will you invite me to your feast?”

She swallowed hard once more and closed her eyes, “yes.”

A low, long groan started somewhere deep from within him as his hands finally moved to caress her. She felt the soft leather of his gloves on her skin as he moved the sweater off her arms, then moved to brush his fingers against her breast, before moving once again to undo the clasp at her neck.

The cardigan dropped to the path as he pulled her close, moved the two of them over next to an ancient tree, and turned her to face him.

Oh he was beautiful.

Dark hair framed ivory skin. His tongue slid over a perfect mouth. And those eyes. Eyes like lodestones that both sucked her in and invaded every part of her. Charlotte’s knees wobbled with the weight of those eyes, so that she had to catch herself on his shoulders, clinging to him to keep from drowning. Every part of her felt painfully alive as if he had drawn her soul out of its depths until it rested right on the surface of her skin, and every touch skittered over that naked soul-stuff and sent a jolt right to her sex before it radiated back out through her pores.

Her mouth fell open with the intensity of it, and her head fell back against the tree behind her, while her brow and eyes scrunched tight with pleasure as he ran the tip of his nose up her neck followed close by the wet line of his tongue and the scrape of his bottom teeth afterward. She could smell the leather of his jacket and an odd, old smell like parchment or an ancient bookshop.

He pulled back suddenly, and she looked to see what was the matter. He grimaced quickly as he pulled first one and then the other glove off with his teeth, as if he were unwilling to let go of her with both hands at once. Her eyes widened at what that grimace revealed, and her breath caught once more when Adam’s gaze suddenly narrowed to a predatory intensity, and his grin showed once more the sharp teeth she hadn’t quite believed she’d seen a moment before.

“Oh my fierce little prize, did you think it was a figurative meal I had invited myself to?” His eyes, if possible, turned even darker than before, “no, my dearest. I said I was hungry, and I meant it.”

Then, before the adrenaline of her fear even had time to register with her rational self, his hands were pulling up her skirt until they met the hot wetness that had been building inside her, and he groaned out his hunger as she whined her need, his fingers finding her beneath her panties and sliding inside that wet heat, first one then two, curling into her as he pressed against her swollen flesh, burying his face into her neck, breathing her in, sucking at the sweet promise just beneath her skin.

Charlotte burned with need, “Oh my god, please. . . . please more . . .” she managed to gasp out, as he brought her right up to the brink before pulling back once more, tearing away her underwear, as she began to fumble awkwardly with his buckle. She groused in frustration when her fingers wouldn’t work the way she willed them to, her brain foggy with desire.

Adam pushed her hands away and ground up against her, pinning her so tightly against the tree she could barely breathe as his mouth came down on hers and sucked the air out of her lungs with his intensity. His sharp incisors pricked the inside of her lip. She tasted the salty copper of her blood, and he pushed his hips harder against her as he sucked.

Finally his clever fingers pulled open his jeans, and he lifted her up to rub the velvety hardness against her dripping cunt before plunging deep inside.

Her eyes locked on his as her tension built toward its climax, face contorted with the intoxicating mix of fear-born adrenaline and overwhelming pleasure.

He chanted as he pumped into her, “So close, so perfect, all mine,” and her peak exploded within her with a silent scream as her head fell back and his teeth sank into her neck, taking his own sustenance from the very heart of her as he climaxed.

As he drifted down from his high, he withdrew, first sealing her wounds with a kiss, then setting her on her feet. She clung to him, fists knotted tightly into the collar of his jacket as he righted his trousers, then straightened her skirt for her, caressing her hips and thighs while he smoothed the fabric, fingers skittering over the curve of her rear, before moving up under her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her back.

She sighed once more, though this time more quietly, and she felt more than heard a rumble of contentment in his chest.

“I don’t think I can walk home,” but she smiled as she said it.

“Shall I help you to mine for a bit?”

“I could read you some poetry.”

His smile filled her vision like the glow of a full moon.

“And I will watch.”

He scooped up his gloves, then her sweater, and then her before walking into the darkness.


End file.
